


Rain

by LondonFan



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, a little fluffy drabble, this is just a short little thing I wrote when it was pouring down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonFan/pseuds/LondonFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was my very first Thommy fic, and despite it being a short oneshot, I hope you enjoy it! :3</p>
    </blockquote>





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CosmicZombie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicZombie/gifts).



> This was my very first Thommy fic, and despite it being a short oneshot, I hope you enjoy it! :3

'It's raining.'

'Oh, really? Haven't noticed that.' Thomas Barrow grinned at a soaking-wet Jimmy Kent who had just entered through the servants' entrance. As far as Thomas knew, Jimmy had to go to Ripon to do some shopping, what with almost everybody away for the weekend. The family had decided to go to London and took most of their servants with them – only Mr Molesley, Mrs Patmore and Mr Carson remained. Barrow and Kent had been ordered to take care of the house, to start the preparations for the big ball that was planned next week.

But the shopping still had to be done. Molesley faked a cold so he didn’t have to do it, Mrs Patmore was busy in the kitchen anyway and Carson – well. Shopping wasn’t _precisely_ his cup of tea. Thomas _did_ have a cold, however, so Jimmy was the only one left. While he was away, a dreadful storm had begun and now he was drenched. And very, very unhappy.

 

'And to cap it all I lost my hat thanks to that _bloody_ storm,’ he complained, putting the shopping bags on the kitchen table with a loud _bang_. ‘It’s out there _somewhere_.’ He pointed at the window and ruffled his hair. It was obvious he would have preferred a hot bath and dry clothes to a long, exhausting search in the rain.

Thomas took pity on Jimmy. He didn’t like the thought of him going out there again, wet as he was. So he decided to go look for the hat himself.

'That's alright, I'll see if I can find it,' Thomas offered, coughing lightly. 'You go dry yourself off and I'll get your hat.' He made for the door, only to be stopped by Jimmy.

  
'You don't have to, I can go by myself. I don’t want you coming down with the flu,’ Jimmy argued. ‘You’ve been coughing and sneezing all day long, Thomas, come back in! I can search for it myself!’

But Thomas wouldn’t have any of that. ‘I’m not gonna _die_ , Jimmy,’ he snarled, ‘and even if I do, nobody would care.’ Before Jimmy could answer, Thomas was out in the rain and the door slammed shut.

~*~

  
Thomas was out there for what seemed like an eternity. Jimmy worried. The storm had become even worse, and if he perked his ears, he could hear thunder not too far away. It was cold and windy and wet, and if Thomas didn’t come back soon he might even come down with pneumonia.

Jimmy worried his lower lip while he was staring out of the window, trying to catch a sight of Thomas. He was his best friend – surprisingly – and he didn’t like the thought of him being sick. Not after they finally found a way to come around the awkwardness after the stolen kiss at night-time, not after they were finally, finally friends, and not after Jimmy had realised what he was actually feeling. After he came to terms with what Thomas felt. After he had accepted it.

To Jimmy’s relief, Thomas was running through the rain towards the house right that moment.

'Thank God,' Jimmy whispered and rushed to the door to open it for his friend. Thomas barged in, dripping and soaked, and handed Jimmy his hat with such a force that he nearly lost his balance.

  
'Thanks, Thomas,' Jimmy said and tried a smile. 'But you shouldn't have.'

  
Thomas smiled at him, weak but genuine. ‘You’re welcome, Jimmy.’ And he was. Thomas would do anything for Jimmy. He still loved him, after all, even though he tried his best not to show it. ‘Although I’d die for a cup of tea. I’ll ask Mrs Patmore.’ He tried to push past Jimmy but was stopped – again. That boy was making a habit out of stopping him, it seemed. Not that he minded.

  
'We need to get you dry, first, though. Go upstairs, towel yourself, hop into some dry clothes and then come downstairs again. I'll make the tea. Up you go!' Jimmy ushered Thomas out of the room, preparing his friend's favourite tea as promised. Mrs Patmore eyed him suspiciously but didn't say a word. Jimmy was immensely grateful for that.

  
Jimmy made his way upstairs with the teapot in his hands, walking into his own room and grabbing the blanket from his bed.

  
Just when he was about to step out, Thomas came left his own room, looking at him. He had changed, but his hair was still wet.

  
'You didn't even bother to dry your hair,' Jimmy complained, grabbing Thomas' hand and dragging him into his room. He made him sit on his bed, poured him a cup of tea and then reached for a towel, staring to carefully dry Thomas' hair. He was sitting behind him, legs on each side of Thomas' hips so he could reach his head easily, his back resting against the wall behind his bed.

They didn’t speak. Thomas was probably still a bit flabbergasted because of what Jimmy was doing. He wasn’t used to that sort of behaviour. Nobody had ever cared enough to pamper him like Jimmy was doing now. Thomas had grown up being treated like a failure, like something foul, because of his… urges. Jimmy apparently didn’t mind. Not anymore.

  
Jimmy didn’t say a word, either. He pretended to be concentrated on the task at hand while he was simply worried that anything he could say might destroy this fragile moment of peace and trust between them. However, he felt that he needed to say _something_. Explain why he was doing this, maybe.

  
'I would care, you know,' Jimmy whispered after a while. 'If you died, I mean.'

  
Thomas didn’t reply. Not that Jimmy had expected him to. He continued dabbing away the water from Thomas’ hair and nape, pampering him as well as he could. When Thomas was dried to Jimmy’s content, he put the towel away. They were still not talking, but Thomas gazed at Jimmy, and didn’t look away. There was _something_ in his gaze, something that Jimmy couldn’t quite put his finger on, but something that made him calm down, relax, feel safe.

  
Trust, maybe. Friendship. _Love_?

  
He decided not to pay this train of thought too much attention and simply wrapped the blanket from his bed around Thomas. They were still in the same position as before – Thomas more or less trapped between Jimmy’s legs and Jimmy not knowing where to put his arms and hands and his head. But Thomas took that worry off his shoulders by slumping backwards against Jimmy’s chest, yawning.

‘ _He’s tired,_ ' Jimmy realised, ' _probably because of his cold and the horrible weather outside_.’ To his surprise, he didn’t mind Thomas snuggled up against him in the slightest, and even wrapped both arms around him to hold the blanket in place and to offer his friend a feeling of safety.

  
They sat like that in silence for a while, until Thomas sighed quietly, ‘Thank you, Jimmy.’ He wriggled closer, placing his head in the crook of Jimmy’s neck and touching his forehead gently to Jimmy’s throat. It was a gesture that spoke volumes.

 

> **_I love you._ **
> 
>  

Jimmy didn’t answer, didn’t move.

  
Just as Thomas was about to doze off, he felt Jimmy’s arm around him tighten; just a quick squeeze that conveyed more meaning than any word ever could.

  
  


> **_I love you, too._ **


End file.
